My Fairy Godmonster (13 page)

“When are the tests?”

“Two days after the wedding.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask amazed.

“I wouldn’t miss David’s wedding. He helped
me through some tough times this year. When Mom was killed, my dad
fell apart and so did his business. It was almost like losing two
parents.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Dad’s doing better. I took a job at night to
support us because I didn’t want to use Dad’s savings, but I need
to pass the bar to keep Scott in school.”

“How do you manage everything?”

John shrugs. “They need me. You do what you
have to. Like what you are doing while your dad is away. I couldn’t
handle it if Mrs. Dudley started ordering me around.” He grins.
“I’d kill the old bat.”

“Hold that thought. I might need your help if
she gets worse.”

John laughs and starts hooking the first
horse to the hot walker. I start to exercise the others. Sunshine
is a pill and refuses to do anything. I finally give up on the
pregnant horse and groom her. Brushing her silky round body, I try
not to think of Mom and her pregnancy.

John and I walk to the house for
breakfast.

We hear Daria screeching through the screen
door, “You can’t ground me. I need to find Gazella!”

Neither one of us wants to go inside, so we
go slower.

“Shoplifting is very serious,” says Mr.
Dudley. “Except for meals, you will spend the day in your
bedroom.”

“I need my cat!” wails Daria.

“Otis, don’t you think you’re being a little
harsh?” asks Weasel.

“You weren’t easy on your brothers and
sisters when you had to raise them,” he tells her.

Weasel’s voice gets higher. “I treat her like
I wanted to be treated. My parents were too busy making babies and
drinking to care for any of us.”

“What about Melinda?”

Weasel hisses, “Don’t you ever mention my
sister’s name again.”

“Who’s Melinda?” asks Daria.

“Never you mind,” her mother says.

I stop in my tracks. Icky chills creep up my
spine. Weasel’s sister is Claire’s mother? How awful.

John says, “You all right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about your lost childhood,
Erminia. Letting Daria get away with this will not help her learn
how to behave. Come upstairs, Daria.”

“You’d better lock me up! I won’t stay in
there!”

“Very well.”

Daria screams, “Let go!”

John and I reach the door. I raise my voice,
“Thanks for your help, John. I’m starving.” I push inside.

Weasel wipes her face quickly while Mr.
Dudley carries Daria out of the room.

I grab cereal and a piece of ham from the
frying pan, trying not to think about Weasel’s family
skeletons.

“Do you want eggs?” she asks.

John says, “Please, I do.”

“No, thank you,” I answer.

“You need to polish the silver today,
Winifred. The caterers plan to use it as well as their own.”

“Yes, Mrs. Dudley.” I eat fast and snatch
some fruit for Fairy Godmonster.

Claire walks into the room smiling. “David’s
coming home this afternoon.”

“Guess I’d better study for
those
exams until he arrives,” says
John.

Weasel serves him saying, “I want you to run
some errands, Claire.”

“Of course, Mother.”

There goes my help.

After taking the fruit to
Fairy Godmonster, I start polishing the silver. My fingers ache by
the time I finish. Sometime in the next week-and-a-half, I still
have to wash windows inside and out, mop and wax the wood floors,
clean the stove and refrigerator, the bathrooms and dust and vacuum
all over again.
Without Fairy Godmonster’s
help.

Late afternoon, David drives up with a big
trailer-load of benches.

I glare at them, anger growing inside me.
About everything.

He jumps out of the truck. “Hi.”

I swallow hard, trying to hold my temper.
“Why didn’t you tell me Mom knew she might die?”

David freezes. “Dad was going to, when he
thought you were old enough.”

“And when was that going to be?”

“I don’t know.” He turns away from me and
sighs. “How did you find out?”

“She left me a diary.”

“What?”

“A book. For me. Hidden in a trunk.”

“I didn’t know about the diary.” His face
looks white.

“Why didn’t you tell me why she died?”

“I was only eight. It took me awhile not to
blame you for her death. After I got over that, it was easier not
to think about.”

“How nice for you. I have a million
questions. Did she get to see me?” I stop, choked with fury and
fear, my stomach a knot of pain. “Am I going to die if I have

babies, too?”

Shock fills David’s face. “Oh, Win! You don’t
carry the hemophilia gene and neither do I.”

The knot goes away, but not the crack in my
heart.

“You and Dad always seemed to share a big
secret about Mom. I felt left out.”

David’s eyes get a faraway look. “Mom was
beautiful and special. Being with her was magical. The three of us
did everything together.”

My heart thumps harder and harder, jealous of
what I missed.

He puts his arm around me. “I’m really
sorry.”

I pull away from him. “Being sorry is not
enough. You are my brother. You should have told me.” I hurry
away.

“Win, wait!”

Claire comes out the kitchen door and sees my
red face. “Are you all right, Winifred?”

“No.” I keep going. Begin to run. Faster,
faster, until I reach the garden.

Sinking to the grass, I’m ready to explode.
“Oh, Mom. Help me.”

A slight breeze sways the trees. Some of
Mom’s advice pops into my head. “Anger is a negative emotion based
on fear. You can’t love when you fear. Forgiveness is a blessing.
You must pay attention to your feelings and change them if you want
to be happy.”

Her words soothe me. I stare at the garden,
memorizing every detail before David changes it. Eighty-degree heat
and blue skies make it shimmer. Bees flit from flower to flower
over lazy ladybugs. I close my eyes and smell the fragrance of
lilacs, pretending I can hear Mom’s voice.

“Don’t resist change, dear Winifred. It’s
what makes you grow and the world a better place. Change is to be
cherished for the knowledge it brings.”

I rise slowly and say my final goodbye to the
garden.

When I go back inside, David and Claire are
busy opening wedding presents. The room sparkles like a wonderland
of white, gold and silver.

David looks at me, worry etching his face.
“Do we need to talk?”

“No.” All thoughts of forgiveness vanish.

Weasel comes into the room. “Dinner is ready
in the kitchen.”

I look straight at her. “A girl should know
the truth about her own mother. Don’t you think, Mrs. Dudley?”

Weasel turns white. She looks away from my
stare. Her voice shakes. “Of course. I-I expect you to write your
thank you notes before the wedding, Claire. Some brides wait months
which is extremely rude.”

Claire looks from her mother’s face to mine,
but says nothing.

I go to the kitchen and hope Weasel tells
Claire about her mother before I do.

Daria sniffs through the meal, her eyes puffy
and red. She looks so miserable, I actually feel sorry for her. I
hope the cat turns up soon.

“Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Dudley,” says David.
“John and I are going to barricade the garden tomorrow. No one will
be allowed there or in the barn until the work is done.”

Weasel says, “I think we should be able to
see the work in progress.”

“I understand how you feel.”
David’s voice is low and calm.
“There won’t
be room for spectators. And I don’t want any accidents.”

“I insist that I have final approval,” sniffs
the Weasel.

The room goes silent. I try not to breathe. I
peek up and see David’s stubborn face. He reminds me of Dad with
that look. In a room full of people, loneliness squeezes my guts.
Oh Dad, please hurry home.

Mr. Dudley breaks the silence. “Erminia, this
is David’s project. Leave him alone. You have enough to do without
interfering with his plans.”

Weasel starts to say, “David - ”

Mr. Dudley raises his voice, “Drop it,
Erminia.”

“You can order your staff and children
around, but not me, Otis Dudley.”

He laughs. “I learned how from you.”

She turns pink with embarrassment. “Well, you
didn’t learn enough.”

Wow. What happened to the soft-spoken Weasel?
She’s like a tiger. It’s uncomfortable watching a real soap opera.
When the telephone rings, I rush to grab it and see Fairy
Godmonster’s tail swish into the study.

I almost drop the phone before saying,
“Hello?”

“Hi Winifred.”

Scott. A thrill goes through me. Then a
chill.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s paying the gas bill. There are tornado
warnings and we gotta’ get out of here.”

“Where are you?” I ask.

“Grandview, Nebraska. We’ve made good time by
driving non-stop. Your dad is anxious to pick up the stallion and
get back home.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Here he comes. Hold on.”

Time creeps by.

“Win!”

“Dad! It’s so good to hear your voice.”

Static electricity crackles on the other end
of the phone.

The line goes dead.

“Dad? Dad! Are you there?”

I stare at the silent phone. From the corner
of my eye, I see Fairy Godmonster sneaking toward the Dudley’s
room.

David jumps up from the table and comes
toward me. “Win, is everything all right?”

I throw myself into his arms so he doesn’t
see Fairy Godmonster.

“The weather broke our connection. Dad’s in
Nebraska and there are tornado warnings.”

He pats my back. “He’ll be fine. Dad doesn’t
take any chances on the road. I’m sure he’ll call back when he
can.”

The phone rings again. I jump a foot.

David says, “Are you sure you’re all
right?”

“Of course.” I grab the phone. “Hi, Dad!”

“It’s me, Jac.”

“Oh.” Deflated, I lean against the wall.

“What’s the matter?”

“Sorry, I got cut off from my dad. Are you
home?”

“No, that’s why I’m calling. We won’t be home
until the night before the wedding,”

Jac says.

Great, I think. “At least you’ll be here in
time.”

“How’s everything?” she asks.

Suddenly, Godzilla appears on the table. She
crashes through the dishes. Food spills all over. Everyone jumps up
in surprise.

“I gotta go. Call me back.” I hang up in time
to see Godzilla knock milk all over Weasel.

“EEKKK!” yells Weasel.

“
GAZELLA!” screeches
Daria.

I grab my mouth to keep from laughing. Fairy
Godmonster peeks in and I almost have a heart attack.

“Go away,” I whisper. “I’ll take care of
this.”

She frowns, but leaves.

Weasel rises from the table with as much
dignity as possible and tries to hurry from the room. I step in her
way to give Fairy Godmonster time to get out the front door. She’s
got to stop climbing out the attic window.

“Get out of my way,” hisses Weasel, pushing
me aside.

Mr. Dudley yells, “Where did that cat come
from?”

“Bad kitty to leave me.” Daria reaches for
her cat.

Godzilla’s pupils are huge and black with
terror. HSSTTT! She leaps off the table and streaks out of the
room.

Daria shrieks. “Gazella! Come back! Gazella!”
She runs out.

“Lock that cat up!” orders Mr. Dudley,
following her.

Where is the poop? I scan the table. Nothing
but tipped glasses, napkins and scattered food. I grab the dishes
and move them to the counter. The poop has to be on the tablecloth.
I hope.

David says, “I’ll help.”

“No!” A flash of fear shakes my knees.

David looks at me, surprised.

“Go do your garden stuff.”

“You sure?” David asks.

“I’ve done everything by myself up to now,” I
say.

David winces. “I’m sorry.”

Claire says, “Let me help you.”

Now my hands shake along with my legs. Train
wreck. “You’d better get started on your thank you notes.”

“It won’t take long with two of us,” Claire
says.

“Please, Claire. I really want to do this by
myself. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I understand.” The light goes out of her
face.

“It would be great if you could help me
tomorrow,” I say.

She smiles. “It’s a deal.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Thank goodness Weasel insists on being
‘proper’ by using a tablecloth. I clear off the last dishes, fold
the cloth carefully and hurry upstairs. I run into Daria.

She screams at me. “I know you kidnapped my
cat.”

I want to yell at her, but don’t. “Your cat
was playing hide and seek with you. I’m glad she’s back.”

“What are you doing with that dirty thing?”
she asks, pointing to the tablecloth.

“Nothing.” I hurry to the attic and unlock
the door.

“I’ll find out what you’re hiding.” Daria
smirks and flounces off.

I lock the door. Fairy Godmonster paces the
floor restlessly.

“What were you doing downstairs?” I ask.

“Chill. I was looking for cat poop.”

“You’re making me crazy. Stay upstairs.” I
unfold the tablecloth.

Fairy Godmonster grabs the Luster Detector.
The purple lights show a big pile of poop under the mess of
food.

“What a relief. Can you grab it?” asks Fairy
Godmonster.

“Do I have to?” I ask.

“You said you don’t want me to leave this
room.”

Glaring at her, I grab a cloth napkin from
the mess and pick up the poop. It’s squishy. I find the NTMT chip.
Instantly, the poop appears.

“Ugh!” I hold my breath. Cat poop is beyond
horrible.